


Unbelievable Idiots

by nontemeteloscurita



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 04:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nontemeteloscurita/pseuds/nontemeteloscurita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altaïr returns from his lunch break to find that Ezio has taken it upon himself to help Connor find a date. He is not pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbelievable Idiots

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write something for [maliks-butt's coffee shop au](http://maliks-butt.tumblr.com/tagged/shows%20up%2015min%20late%20with%20a%20cup%20of%20starbucks) for quite a while and now I finally got around to it. This is my first time writing them, but I think I did alright. Feedback is very welcomed, but try to go easy on me uwu
> 
> based on [this picture](http://yazorasartblog.tumblr.com/post/51794741101/ezio-felt-that-connor-could-use-a-little-help)

_Hella fucking --_

An audible growl of irritation escaped his lips. _Unbelievable._ The people that he worked with could be  _unbelievable_  idiots. This particular situation was a prime example, though he had to admit it was the  _stupidest_  thing they had done thus far. So stupid, in fact, that he actually had to double-take when making his way back into the building because he thought for sure that his eyes were deceiving him -- no one could be  _that_ stupid, after all. But if anyone could be, it was his coworkers.

Scarred lips twitched in anger. A green, coffee-stained apron was tossed carelessly over one shoulder. And then he was grabbing the wooden sign from where it stood (and where it had been advertising  _false_  information) and carrying it with a scowl into the café.

He paid little attention to the few customers who were waiting in line that sidestepped in order to make room for him and the cumbersome object that he was toting, instead focusing a defined glare at the ever-smirking Italian behind the counter. There was no doubt that he was the reason for Altaïr's current scowl. (And even though Ezio knew that, it hardly stopped him from offering the older man one of his trademark grins.) _  
_

"Ah." Ezio leaned a forearm on the counter, nodding in the direction of the board at Altaïr's feet. "I see you found our sign." Thumbing nonchalantly over his chin, he shrugged, now seeing his drawing again. "I suppose all my time with Leonardo didn't do much in the way of..." He motioned loosely with his hands. _"Artistic ability_ , exactly, but--"

"I see you made good use of your time," Altaïr interrupted, his voice unwavering despite the other man's attempts at keeping their conversation light. "And made us appear incompetent. _And_ unprofessional."

A hand came to rest on his shoulder and Altaïr felt a vein in his temple begin to throb.

"Va bene," Ezio said smoothly, and then lowered his voice. "I was only trying to help our friend." A small glance in Connor's direction was followed by a charming smile. "He's not the best with these things."

 "And  _this_ was your way of helping?" Altaïr questioned, the sudden outburst earning him a few glances and whispers from the customers in line.

Ezio motioned for him to join them behind the counter, though the relaxed nature of the entire thing was enough to heighten Altaïr's frustration even further. Even so, he took the sign once more and grudgingly made his way around a group of elderly women who were beaming with motherly-pride as Connor generously tended to their orders. He lifted the hinged section of the counter and moved past both Connor and Ezio, setting the wooden sign down rather roughly before pulling his apron on over his head. He had found himself in innumerable circumstances similar to this since working here; ridiculous, stupid circumstances. It should have been no surprise to him by now.  _Fucking idiots_ , he thought to himself again, shaking his head. They were only going to continue outdoing themselves. It was only going to become more unbeara--

"You know."

Ezio's voice tore him from his thoughts and Altaïr looked up, his eyes narrowed. "What."

"It actually worked." There was only a hint of pride in his tone, but it was obvious that he was holding back his satisfaction. _  
_

Altaïr stared blankly. "It worked," he repeated, watching as Ezio shrugged innocently and then following the other man's gaze to where their third coworker was standing behind the register.

"Thank... you." Connor's words were hesitant, mostly due to the fact that he was forcing himself beyond speechlessness. He was eyeing something in his hand and his cheeks flushed.

Altaïr watched as the customer took his coffee, chuckling at Connor's comment as if it  _hadn't_ been the most pitiful thank you that the world had ever witnessed. "Use it," the man said, with a nod, and then he was making his way confidently (and Altaïr thought, a little  _too_ confidently) out of the restaurant.

"Ah?" Ezio grinned.

It appeared that all of the color had drained from Connor's face now that he turned to where Ezio and Altaïr were standing. "It is his phone number," he said after a minute. He was holding the napkin awkwardly, unsure of what to do with it, as if the customer had given him something that desperately needed taking care of despite Connor's cluelessness about how to tend to such a thing.

Ezio smiled proudly. Altaïr rolled his eyes.

"Just get back to work," he grumbled, ushering a still-uncertain Connor out of the way so that he could take his place behind the register. The sign was down now, at least, and hopefully the number of moronic instances for the day would drop as well.

-

A sharp exhale passed between his lips as he leaned back against the far counter, his arms crossed over his chest. For the past hour he had been glancing between the floor and the clock on the wall; time always dragged towards the end of the night. There were only a few customers inside now: a woman huddled in the corner with a hot chocolate, most of her face veiled behind the cover of her book, and a group of three students, their notebooks ignored as they gathered around one laptop, laughing loudly about whatever it was they were watching. He sighed. Lowering his head, Altaïr rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, letting out a slight groan at the sound of the bell on the door that indicated another customer.

He stood upright and raised his head. And then his shoulders fell.

"Malik."

"Altaïr."

"The usual?" He didn't even wait for a response before touching the corresponding buttons on the register, not paying enough attention to see that Malik was reading the chalkboard signs that hung behind the bar.

And he was already preparing the drink when Malik eyed him with a smirk, only offering a small hum in response to the question.

After a moment, Altaïr slid the cup across the counter as he punched in the total to open the drawer of the register. And when he looked back, Malik was already halfway to the door, not even turning around as he spoke.

"Good night, Altaïr."

The bell jingled again as the door closed behind him. Altaïr stared. "Good night?" Were they on bad terms again? Just his luck, considering how the rest of the day had gone.

He reached for the few dollars and change that Malik had set on the counter and looked down to find that money was not the only thing that had been left there. Brushing the dollar bills aside with his thumb, he tilted his head just slightly to read what was written on the napkin beneath.

_His... phone number._

Altaïr blinked. But he had taken the sign down. It had been down for the entire second half of the day. How--

He turned around, his eyes lifting to read the board above his head.

> _Tonight your barista is:_
> 
> _1\. Hella fucking gay_
> 
> _2\. Desperately single_
> 
> _3\. In need of a good lay_
> 
> _Please give him your phone number_

The vein in his temple was throbbing again.  _Unbelievable. Fucking. Idiots._


End file.
